Games
by Black Onyx Angel
Summary: Incomplete. It has bashing all around. Yaoi and Het. All pairings (unless they're a surprise) a mentioned at the top of the chapters. More are added as chapters are written. May be very offensive to the lot of you.
1. This Game

This Game

  


Pairings: HP&HG, HP&DM

Warnings: R for sexual content and language. This has Hermione-bashing and Harry-bashing(that's putting it mildly), and may be very offensive to the lot of you. If you wish to read it just so you can flame me, please, feel free, but remember, I warned you. Oh, and if you're going to flame me, make sure it's a flame, and not a condemnation or insults to my family, eh?

  
  


She crawls to him on her hands and knees like the bitch she is. She would do anything for him though he treats her like the shit on the bottom of his shoes. Treats her like he treats everybody else. Like he treats me.

  


They all excuse his behavior because he's no other than the boy who fucking lived. Hell was born to earth when that whore, Lily Evans, bore James Potter a god-forsaking son, the bastard of a bastard. May they burn and rot in the deepest pits ever imagined within the darkest shadows of the mind for bearing the man before me. For allowing this-this son of a bitch to make it past his first year and allowing Voldemort to mark him.

  


His cold, empty emerald eyes glare at the girl kneeling before him. He does nothing as her practiced hands reach for his belt. He doesn't move when she expertly opens his fly and pulls him out. Only when she engulfs him in her warm, wet mouth, does he convulsively buck his hips and grab a fistful of her curly, mahogany hair.

  


I can only watch as she sucks him off. Her mouth must be talented to even be allowed near his dick, but I doubt it's too good for him. I lie to myself, because I know the truth. I know how experienced the little whore is. But why else would he come to me, having had her talented mouth and knowing tongue take him over the edge? Why else would he continue coming to me for release? Why do I continue to stay with him when I know he allows this?

  


He gives one last moan, never having been the vocal type, as the bitch cleans up whatever she missed. Though I know for a fact, the little slut never misses a drop, never. She's just taking the time to enjoy herself, hoping for a quick fuck. She wants him in her. She wants him to nail her into the bed and make her so sore that she can barely walk. She wants him to go so deep, that it hurts, to make sure she bleeds, to make her cry and beg for him to stop.

  


But he has other plans. 

  


And he's late already.

  


His eyes flash in annoyance and he shoves her from him, and she lands sprawled on her ass, anger and disappointment, emotions quickly buried in her eyes.

  


He stands up, tucking everything back where it needs to be. He doesn't even spare her a glance as he walks away.

  


I turn and make my way up and out. I do not need him to suspect anything. He thinks that I do not know, and I want him to keep thinking that. I will play this game, and I will make sure that the boy who fucking lived will be bested by his own lover.

  


I smirk, and I know that the bitter anger and jealousy are clearly shown in my grey eyes. Mark my words, I'll show Harry fucking Potter that you don't fuck with a Malfoy. My smirk grows sinister.

  


I live for this game.

  


A/N: Come on, hit me with it. Let me see what you got.


	2. Their Game

Their Game

  


Pairings: HG&HP, HG&DM, DM&HG

Rating: R (for language)

Warnings: language (again), maybe ooc (depending on how you look at it), bastard!Harry, slut!Hermione, again, might offend some of you

A/N: The second one... I just had to do one from Hermione's POV... This follows 'This Game'...

  
  


They are so different and so alike at the same time. They both come to me. They both use me. They both leave me alone.

  


I don't mind being used by this one as much. With his platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes, he's magnificent. He at least, respects me, if only a little. It's more than what that other bastard gives me.

  


They think that I'm slightly ditzy when it comes to them. But I'm not, I just play their game so well. I play better than they do, the maestros of this delicate performance. I hear what they call me, and I don't care enough to defend myself. I am a slut, plain and simple. That doesn't mean I'm proud of it. But back to their differences.

  


This one at least treats me better than a common whore. He does not always come to me for release, at least, not initially. He comes for a faux sense of comfort and caring. I give him that. Understanding is a mutual gift in our lives.

  


Almost always we wind up fucking. Not lovemaking, fucking, there is no love between us, it's just a mutual fuck. It's not the kind of fuck that Harry gives. Harry will make me so sore I won't be able to walk right with out painkillers of some sort, he'll make me bleed and I have to beg him to stop. But Draco is different. He is tender, caring, almost loving. He does not have any real strong feelings for me, and even if he does they are not what makes him be gentle with me.

  


He sees the bruises. He always sees the bruises. The piss yellow, denim blue, and blood black bruises left by the bastard who lived. He almost never leaves bruises, not unless I ask. Even then the bruises are the finest baby blue, sweet dandelion yellow, and watermelon seed black, and I don't mind them as much. They are wanted, they are almost cherished. In this game of theirs, these bruises signify my victory over them, though they do not realize.

  


I know that I am only a pawn in their game, they think I do not know, but I know. I see the Slytherin when he is watching us, though the egotistical Gryffindor does not. I see the anger, jealousy, and hurt that is in his eyes whenever he watches from the crack in the door I leave open for him. Is he angry because Harry is allowing this, or is he angry because I allow this? Does the jealousy stem for me being with Harry or Harry being with me? Does he even know he hurts and bleeds defeat when he watches us?

  


I wanted him. So much so that I exposed Harry's dirty little secret to him. I exposed me. I let him have what Harry has had and so much more, because I favor him more. I favor the little shit, more than the bastard that had been my friend. I give the Slytherin more of me than I have ever given any other, and I do not understand why.

  
  


Maybe I really am the whore they call me behind my back. My payment though is not monetary. My payment is Malfoy in my arms and in my bed. Driven there because of Harry Potter, the bastard of the wizarding and muggle worlds, and his betrayal with me.

  


I look at the sleeping Slytherin beside me. Draco Malfoy, I have always liked that name. In an hour or so, he'll wake up, see me laying beside him, awake and smiling softly. He'll duck his head and blush ever so slightly in shame. He'll mumble an apology before climbing out of the bed and getting dressed. On his way out, he'll look back and open his mouth as if to say something only to shut it and give a nod before walking out. At least he looks back to see the mess he's leaving behind. That's unfair of me. He really isn't so bad once you get behind the prick's walls. Of course, I may just be saying that because he's a good fuck. Maybe I'm just saying it because I have won their game with out them ever realizing it. But would I ever steer you wrong?

  
  


A/N: *cocks head to side* I kinda like this Hermione... If anyone can figure out what's going on in Harry's head, you can write the follow up... I just want to read it :) Newho... Feedback for a starving author?


	3. My Game

My Game

by Kassidy and Black Onyx Angel

  


Pairings: HG&HP, HP&DM, DM&HG, HP&??

Rating: R (for language)

Warnings: language, maybe ooc (depending on how you look at it), bastard!Harry, might offend some of you

A/N: The third one... Kassidy (a good friend of mine), decided she'd pick it up and write it from Harry's POV... well, she sent it to me, and I read. I loved it, but I wanted to change bits and pieces... add a few lines here, a few punctuation changes there, and a new twist... hope you enjoy... (this follows 'Their Game')

  
  


I slowly walk away to my own room, my head down, my mind buried in the thoughts spinning around and around. There are always so many of them now. So damn many…

  


I never meant for things to go this far. I swear I didn't, but I can't stop it now. I have to live with it and hide my regret, forget my shame, and cover my lies. They don't know me as well as they think they do, if they believe that this can really be me. What they don't know won't kill them, but what they do know might.

  


I am alone again. I am always alone now, even when they are there, when I am there. They just don't understand. They don't fucking well understand what I'm bloody going through, and I don't want them to. I don't want them to know what I go through every day, because they will only pity me and that would ruin everything. That would ruin me.

  


I swear they must think I'm blind. Do they really think I don't know what they do behind my back? That I don't know what they do behind closed doors when they think I am far away? I know. I know they're sleeping together, I know that he goes to her for comfort and that she gives it to him. I know that she even wants it. But what can I do? They need each other. No matter how hard they try to deny it, they need each other. And I need them, but they'll never know nor believe it.

  


I did that for them, you know? I gave them each other. I forced them together. Me. Harry Fucking Potter. It is all my own damn fault.

  


I will accept the consequences, and watch my back. Believe me, I will, because I know that they will try to get me. I know more than they will ever realize. I even know what they call me. The bastard who lived. That's what I am now. That's all I am.

  


But again, I can live with that. And I will happily live with it, because that is all I have to live for. 

  


They don't really get it, you know? They don't understand what war really is. They don't know what I have to do, what I have to see, what I have to become... They are no where near tough enough to survive this without me. That is what I am doing, helping them survive...

  


I close the door behind me as I enter his room. Dropping my cloak over the only chair in the bedroom, I walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

  


Yes, it's harsh, do you think that I don't fucking know that? Of course I know it, but when this is done and over with, they will be alive. They may, no, _will_ hate me, but they will be alive, unlike everyone else. I will save everyone I can. And to save them, I will beat, love, or fuck whoever I have to. I'll do it for them.

  


Until this is all over. Until this war that I did not start, is finished. Then I will be free, finally. When my job is done, I will leave, and they can hate the memory of me in peace. Perhaps in time they will understand why I did it. Perhaps they can forgive me, eventually.

  


I'll tell you though, I'm not going to hold my breath. I won't be around to hold my breath.

  


I have some of Voldemort's powers, and after I use them to destroy him, I will destroy them. All of his powers must be destroyed. And that means destroying me...

  


I look up into the bathroom mirror and wipe away the tears on my face. I open the cold water tap, running the cool water to splash over my face. If they see me crying they will know it has all been a lie. And then my entire plan will go up in smoke.

  


Drying the water from my face, I hang the towel back in its proper place and open the bathroom door, smiling at the man on the four poster bed. My voice is a carefully cultured purr, as I speak his name. "Severus..."

  
  


A/N: ... I wrote that ending, the very last paragraph, and for some reason it sends a shiver up my spine every time I read it. I hop this doesn't disappoint Kassidy, or any of you... next one is from Sev's POV. What new pairing will come to light for the reader? What new deception can I come up with? *snicker* just you wait and see. Feedback for a starving author?


	4. Our Game

Our Game

  


Pairings: HG&HP, HP&DM, DM&HG, HP&SS, SS&SB, SB&HP, HP&RW

Rating: R

Warnings: language, maybe ooc (depending on how you look at it), might offend some of you

A/N: ... Dear god... I never knew I could take it this far...so, I have POVs from Draco, Harry and Hermione. Three out of Seven... I know some people are liking this little Games series, but I'm not getting many reviews... Newho... on with the deceptions...

  
  


Who would have thought the Harry could do this to his friends? To the people he cares about? To his godfather?

  


It's fucked. Our games, I mean. We all play them. This one though, this one is something more. It surprises me just how intricate it's become. I've seen him with Hermione and Draco, playing the bastard to their gentility. I've seen him with Ron, playing the submissive to his dominant. But I can't figure out what he plays for me, or for Severus.

  


I've seen the two of them together, though I have confronted neither. How can I when I have been with them both as well?

  


I know that he goes to him. How can I not? Severus comes to me, skin smelling of sweat, hair smelling of sex. Still we tumble into this bed, stripping each others clothes off as we start on our journey.

  


My fingers ghost over his skin and a gasp flows through his parted lips. I do it again, trying effortlessly to coax that sound out of him for a repeat performance.

  


How did we get here? From me being his scorned enemy to being his lover? Who made the first move? Who gave the first kiss?

  


Why did Harry set us up like this? Why does Harry continue using us after he's achieved what he sought for? Why me? Why Severus? Why us?

  


I do not remember, nor do I think I really ever knew, let alone, understood. Maybe I will later, but right now I care only about running my hands over his alabaster skin, running my tongue over his thin lips, drowning him in my love.

  


I'm not so much hurt as I am disappointed. I'm disappointed in Harry. I'm disappointed in Severus. I'm disappointed in myself.

  


How can he? How can he stand it? How can he stand us? How can he stand himself?

  


Harry should never have started these games. Severus should never have fallen for them. I should never have let it get this far.

  


"Sirius," he says, and I drag my eyes up to meet the fathomless onyx depths that are his eyes.

  


Later, I will remember why I shouldn't do this. I will remember why I gave in. I will remember that he is now my world. I will remember to thank Harry for making it so.

  


He grabs my hair and pulls my face up to his. He gives his irritating smile and crushes his lips to mine.

  


Later.

  


It's fucked. This game of ours.

  
  


A/N: Make that Four out of Seven...


	5. His Game

His Game

  


Pairings: HG&HP, HP&DM, DM&HG, HP&SS, SB&HP, SS&SB, HP&RW, HP&RL, RW&RL

Rating: R

Warnings: language, maybe ooc (depending on how you look at it), might offend some of you

A/N: *scratches head* eh-hehehe... well, I know the last one was a bit tame, ok, really tame, and this one will be as well. I figure that, since they're older, they don't need to cuss as much. The next one will be about as tame as Draco's, then another older person, then one last end piece. I shall say no more about it... Enjoy!

  
  


His game is the reason we're together.

  


That does not mean, however, that I am excusing the Golden Boy's actions.

  


I confess, though, to not knowing what Potter is playing at. That in it's self is a miracle.

  


I thought I knew, at one point, but then I saw them together.

  


I saw his thrust into Harry from behind, his left arm wrapped around Harry, his right hand running over Harry's side. I watched as Harry rode him, pushing up and down as he bit Harry's neck. I saw as he whispered in Harry's ear, words I couldn't hear, but desperately wanting to.

  


I pray they aren't the same words he whispers in my ear. That would be too much of a betrayal.

  


Listen to me, talking of betrayal, when I've committed the same act. With the same person, no less.

  


I feel my lips turn up into its customary sneer. Jealousy can be such a disastrous feeling.

  


Who would have figured that I, Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater, Hogwarts Potion's Professor, Greasy Git Extraordinaire, could be jealous of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

  


Oh, yes. We can't forget the Astute Sirius Black, either.

  


His Godfather and Lover. My Lover. It seems that we do appear to have something in common, don't we?

  


I never saw Harry with anyone before that first time I was in his bed. After that I have seen him with others. Draco, Hermione, Remus, and Ron, but I never figured, never even thought, I'd see him with Black.

  


His own Godfather.

  


There is one thing about his game, though, that I am almost thankful for. Sirius and I have somehow managed to become closer, even with our trysts. Not that I would ever admit it.

  


We are not the only ones to have become closer, either.

  


I am not blind. I am not dense. I can see what is happening, even if I do not quite understand why.

  


Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have formed an odd relationship based on comfort and caring. Ron Weasley and Remus Lupin, a dominant submissive relationship if I've ever seen one. Me and Black, a relationship of betrayal and trust, of hate and love, of anger and compliancy.

  


No, I am not blind. I will tell you something else. Cynical as I always am, I'll tell you.

  


His game is going to be his down fall, as well as ours.

  


I just don't care to believe it. Besides, why would a greasy bastard like me care about something like that?

  
  


A/N: Five of Seven... Hope it didn't disappoint... All pairings have now been revealed!! Feedback for a starving author?


	6. Your Game

Your Game

  


Pairings: HG&HP, HP&DM, DM&HG, HP&SS, SB&HP, SS&SB, HP&RW, HP&RL, RW&RL

Rating: R

Warnings: language, maybe ooc (depending on how you look at it), might offend some of you

A/N: Alright... Six of Seven... Ron's POV... enjoy!

  


He's a bastard. A bloody slut.

  


Oh, don't give me that look. He's shagging six people. If that doesn't constitute as a slut, then I don't know what bloody does.

  


He's probably shagged half the bloody school.

  


If he has, I don't fucking want to hear about it.

  


Either he's addicted to sex, or he's playing one hell of a twisted little game.

  


Did you know that he's no longer just the 'Boy Who Lived'? No, he's the 'Boy Who Lived to Fuck'. To fuck with me, to fuck with his Godfather, to fuck with the Greasy Potion's Master, to fuck with the werewolf...

  


Oh, come on. You had to of known. I mean, Moony is his Godfather's best friend and my lover. There was no way Harry was going to leave him out of the equation.

  


Bloody glory whore.

  


Stop giving me that damned look. It's annoying. It really is.

  


You see, you don't know exactly what's going on, do you? No, you don't. Well, let me tell you something.

  


Neither do I. Nobody has a fucking clue. Not one of us.

  


Except Harry.

  


And he ain't talking. Hell, no one's even called the bastard on it. I'll bet you, everyone he's fucking, has seen him fuck someone else. Through a crack in a door, through a Pensieve, through that hole in the picture... Well, you get the idea.

  


Not, that I've done any of that, of course. Why would I have to?

  


I mean, Remy has such a guilty conscience sometimes. He told me he had left Harry fuck him. I told him that I had fucked Harry.

  


See, no spying necessary. Isn't that a wonderful thing?

  


Oh, it's not like I'm totally great with what has been happening, but I can't really complain, can I?

  


I mean, we were both sorta with Harry before we got together.

  


You know, now that I think about it... nah, I don't think Harry'd have the mind or gall to do that. I mean, I'm his best friend, or rather, I'm *supposed* to be...

  


Eh, glory whore or not, he's still fucking me, Remy, and the others, and I still act as his best friend. Even if he had become a bastard. I mean, he's still Harry, right?

  


Look at him. Did you ever think Remus could look this good? Peacefully asleep after a, well, a long night. He's rather beautiful. Just don't get any ideas.

  


I may let Harry fuck him, but no one else. Remy is mine, just as much as I'm his.

  


And he knows it.

  


See the necklace? The dog-tag on it? I gave that to him... He's mine.

  


Sometimes, I almost wish that I wasn't Harry's best friend. I'd ask him what the hell he thought he was doing.

  


Hell, if you talk to him, ask him for me.

  


Ask him, 'When the fuck are you stopping your game?'

  


Do that for me, before I snap and kick his ass.

  
  


A/N: So, Six of Seven down... Um... better? Should I change any of it? Or should I leave it? Newho, next one is Remus's (back to being tame), then there's the Epilogue... yes, there's an Epilogue...


	7. The Game

The Game

  


Pairings: HG&HP, HP&DM, DM&HG, HP&SS, SB&HP, SS&SB, HP&RW, HP&RL, RW&RL

Rating: R

Warnings: language, maybe ooc (depending on how you look at it), might offend some of you

A/N: Here you go folks, Seven of Seven... The last of the POVs...Remember, though... there's still the Epilogue :). This one is tame, remember, it's Remus. So yes, it's really tame. Enjoy!

  
  


We all got caught up in the game, didn't we?

  


It's almost amusing at how easily he and it, sucked us up.

  


The game that we all despise and yet crave. The game that we know must end, but fervently wishing that it wouldn't.

  


We depend on it too much. We've become accustomed to Harry and the way he's played us. The way he used the game to set us up.

  


He set Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy up. His own Godfather and his Potions Professor. Me and his best mate.

  


I don't know how he could play the game so well that we didn't notice until too late.

  


By the time any of us noticed, we were all already too far gone, too deeply immersed. Not that any of us really wanted to end it.

  


He means something to each of us. He fills a part of us. And we all love him, even if we hate what he's done.

  


Would you like to be played and treated like a pawn?

  


Would you let someone fuck you for the game he plays? Or would you let someone fuck you because you want to feel needed, want to feel loved, comforted? Or because you want to just be?

  


Would you think less of me if I admitted to letting Harry fuck me for all those reasons and so many more?

  


Would you think less of any of us?

  


Do not judge us for the roles we play. Not until you've played the game. Not until you've been consumed, scorched, ravaged, and left to pick yourself up in the aftermath of it all.

  


Believe me, it's not pretty, the games we play, but at least we're playing it.

  


Even if he manipulated us into it.

  


Harry is still Ron's best mate. And you'd think Ron would have to be pretty forgiving, right?

  


No, he's not really forgiving. But he is thankful.

  


We would never be where we are right now without Harry's game. The game he created, the game he just ended.

  


A/N: I'm almost depressed over had bad I think this one is... but that just could be my frame of mind. Newho, read and review, please. Next part, the Epilogue.


	8. End Game

End Game

  


Pairings: HG&HP, HP&DM, DM&HG, HP&SS, SB&HP, SS&SB, HP&RW, HP&RL, RW&RL

Rating: R

Warnings: language, maybe ooc (depending on how you look at it), might offend some of you

A/N: The last part of the Games series. I hope you all enjoyed it, it's been a fun ride. :-D

  
  


I never could hate him. I could never call him at his game. And I never did win.

  


I never bested Harry. He bested me, time and again.

  


And now I realize why he did what he did...

  


And I won't forget it...

  


Or him.

  


I hope he rests in peace.

  


Even if he did fuck with a Malfoy...__

  


_They are no where near tough enough to survive this without me. That is what I am doing, helping them survive..._

  


Why would I cry for someone who treated me like a common whore?

  


Why would I mourn his loss?

  


Why would I mourn someone who would beat me for that twisted game of his?

  


Why?

  


Because, in my own fucked up way, I loved him.

  


Not as much as I do Draco... but I did.

  


I really did love the Gryffindor bastard...

  


_They may, no, will hate me, but they will be alive, unlike everyone else. _

  


I understand now.

  


I understand why he continued to use us... He couldn't let go.

  


Couldn't let go of the warmth, the comfort...

  


It may have been a fucked up game. But we all played it.

  


It was our fucked up game.

  


And it's never going to be played again...

  


_I will save everyone I can. And to save them, I will beat, love, or fuck whoever I have to. I'll do it for them._

  


You know, I miss his game.

  


Isn't that fucked?

  


I miss the Golden Boy and his games.

  


And if you tell anyone that I admitted that, this Greasy Potions Master will make it so you don't live to regret it.

  


_When my job is done, I will leave, and they can hate the memory of me in peace. Perhaps in time they will understand why I did it. Perhaps they can forgive me, eventually._

  


He's gone.

  


He really is.

  


I knew it might happen, but I never believed that it would.

  


My best mate... the goddamned glory whore...

  


Damn tears...

  


I never got the chance to thank him...

  


_I'll tell you though, I'm not going to hold my breath. I won't be around to hold my breath._

  


Bitter tears...

  


Funny, they don't taste any different.

  
  


Maybe because there's still sorrow mixed in.

  


And now I'm left picking up the pieces in his aftermath.

  


Still I care for him, and still he's beyond our reach.

  


_*whirrrrrr... bzzzt* End Game. *shrooooomm click*_

  
  


A/N: Um... yeah. Maybe a bit anti-climatic? Maybe? Maybe not? Yes, Harry's dead. It said that one in Remy's POV... sorta. Neway, this is the end... that last part is supposed to be like a machine... if you didn't get it... So, yeah, tell me what you thought.


End file.
